


A slave from Vere

by newrelics



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prince Damianos & Slave Laurent, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrelics/pseuds/newrelics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damianos grabbed one of the wooden legs of Laurent’s chair and dragged it closer to him. He placed the knife on the table.<br/>“Feed me.” He said and Laurent picked up the blade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slave

_A gift from the King of Vere._ That’s what Damianos had been told three days prior while he was having his second cup of wine. The weather was hot, the air was dense and sweet with the smell of summer fruit. He had raised a brow, looking at Nikandros with questioning eyes. _A gift? From them? What if it’s poisonous?_.

*** 

The gift was glaring at him with icy eyes. His jaw was clenched, but other than that his expression was a snow dessert; cold and pale. Damen looked at him, trying to figure out his own thoughts. The gift – the man – was on his knees; a splotch of color on an already finished painting. He did not belong, everything about him screamed foreigner. He looked oddly familiar.

“This?” Damianos asked, his head tilted just a little to a side as he inspected the man. Blond, disheveled hair fell over his forehead and eyes, his lips were drained of any color and pressed together in a venomous line, straight and sharp. He did not look like a sweet slave, he was not a pliable and flustered young man meant to warm his bed. 

“I think he’ll bite me.” Damianos said. “I’d rather not touch him.” 

“He’s yours, Exalted.” Someone told him, a man, dressed in Veretian clothing, deep reds and golds curled tightly around his body in what Damianos thought of as _a stupidly rigid and infuriately thick fabric for that weather._ “It’s a sign of good faith.”

“Good faith?” Damianos laughed, rich and loud. The slave had nothing about him that suggested good faith. He looked at him. The other held his gaze, insult and unspoken cusses swam in his eyes. “What’s your name?” 

He did not answer. His teeth clenched, his fists clenched, every inch of his body tensed and he glared. He was tied up, wrists and ankles chained. A heavy collar pushed into the sink of his neck, leaving red marks. 

“Laurent.” The Veretian man said. “He shares the name with the late Prince of Vere. Even his coloring, as you can see.” The man touched Laurent’s hair dragging his fingers through his hair, like he was feeling the texture of a soft fabric. Laurent tensed even more, his eyes widening, his pale eyebrows shifting into a deep, disgusted frown. 

“Does he speak the language?” Damianos asked. A tug of guilt creeped beneath the skin. It felt like he was accepting a prisoner, not a slave. 

“Some. He knows bitchy remarks. But he has a brilliant mind. I assure you, Exalted, that he is a fast learner.” 

Damianos could not refuse. This was a gift from a former enemy country. He could not afford to insult them. “Thank you.” He said and took the man’s hand, half wanting to show respect and gratitude, half wanting to tug his fingers out of the blond hair. 

“Take him to the baths.” He ordered. “Wash him and get him dressed.” 

“I can wash myself.” Laurent snapped, his voice poured out accented and heavy with the foreign language. He enunciated carefully, pushing each word out with hatred. 

Damianos heard it, the rustle among his men. The air changed. Insult was the word hanging above their heads like a guillotine ready to fall. A slave could not be that insolent. 

“Watch him.” Damianos said. “Let him wash himself if that’s what he wants.” Laurent looked like a rigid twig that could snap if forced. Damen didn’t care much for breaking people.

***

“He is an insult.”

The room was lit by candles and it still smelled like meat and wine. Nikandros placed his cup – he slammed his cup harder than he had intended – on the table. 

“He is in a foreign country. Maybe it just... took him by surprise. All these wrists and ankles affected his delicate sensibilities.” Damianos joked, leaning back in the hard, wooden chair. He smiled. “You know how those people are. Eternal shame for showing your collarbone!” 

“He does not know how to behave in front of a king! He is not a bed slave, nor is he a slave, nor is he a servant. He is a viper dressed in human skin. Have you seen how he looks at you?” 

“How?” He knew how. 

“Like he wants to kill you.” Nikandros stopped, his eyes drifted across the table as if he was following a new idea. He frowned, his eyes gliding back towards Damianos. “What if that’s why he was sent here?” 

“You worry so much.” 

“I worry the right amount.” Nikandros filled his cup with wine and drank it like water. “Someone should teach him some manners.” 

Damianos shrugged and drank. He wanted to talk to the Veretian slave, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. Hatred dripped from his pores like juice from an overripe fruit. A gentle squeeze and he could have his hands covered in it. But he was king. He wasn’t going to coward behind a half credible pretext. He was going to talk to Laurent.

*** 

Damianos was having breakfast on the small balcony of his chambers when Laurent was bought to him, wrists tied together with silk; the thin chiton left his legs and arms bare. Damianos could see white skin painted in blues that bled into purples, colors smearing across his legs and arms. His hair was now brushed and he smelled faintly of roses.

“Sit.” Damianos said and picked an apple. He held a knife with his other hand. Laurent’s didn’t look at the knife which meant he really wanted to. 

“Sit.” He said again. Laurent made no sign that he was about to do it. He walked around the balcony, glancing at the court beneath. There was a certain air about him, not quite that of an injured animal. He was a chained jaguar, circling, slowly and threateningly, the only space around him that he could reach. Damianos watched him and sliced himself a piece of apple. 

A moment passed. 

“I will not kneel before you.” Laurent said. His _r_ rolled pleasantly and soft on his tongue.

It was Damianos’ turn to not answer. He looked at him and waited. And the wait was heavy with the prospect of possibilities. 

“I could have you flogged.” He said. And Laurent’s lips curled into a smile. Something, a suspicion, had just been confirmed. His body turned towards Damianos, pale and bruised under the morning light.  
“Barbaric.” The calm was chilling. 

“Sit.” 

This time, Laurent sat. His back was straight, muscles tensed, face blank and cold. He placed his hands on his lap and stared Damianos in the eye. It was only now that Damianos noticed the dark circles. He took off the silk around his wrists. 

The knife sliced into the apple with ease. His father warned him about Veretians, about their minds, their cunning way of thinking. And now he was sitting at a table with one of them and he could do nothing but confirm his father’s words.

Damianos grabbed one of the wooden legs of Laurent’s chair and dragged it closer to him. He placed the knife on the table. 

“Feed me.” He said and Laurent picked up the blade. He looked at it, at the sharp steel, contemplating. Damianos watched him. 

“As you wish.” His words were empty. He grabbed took an apple in his hands, holding it gently in his palms, and cut it. His fingers pinched the slice delicately and bought it up against Damianos’ lips. Damianos ate the apple.

*** 

The sounds came from the courtyard, near the stables. Laughter and cuss words filled the air. Drunken cheers. Damianos was walking by, enjoying the evening, when he heard it. It was not unusual for his men to be loud. It was not unusual for them to get worked up after a game of cards. What made him stop were the foreign words. He turned and walked towards the ruckus and saw Laurent being passed around like a barrel. One man would grab his shoulders and pushed him violently towards another, and so on. For a minute, Damianos watched. One of the men stepped to a side when it was his turn to catch Laurent. Laurent fell on his back. He did not have time to get up, someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him, then he felt himself shoved away again. He was covered in dust and sweat and scratches.

Damianos stepped forward. “Stop.” And the men stopped and bowed, muttering _Exalted_ as if it was a holy word. “What are you doing?” 

“The Venetian.” One of the men started. “He insulted us. Called us dirty barbarians” 

“And you decided it would be most honorable to pick on him? Three men against one who cannot fight back? And let’s face it. You’re not the cleanest in the bunch.”

“Apologies, Exalted.” They bowed. They couldn’t contradict him. 

Laurent was looking at him; he could feel his eyes on the back of his neck like two arrows ready to shoot. “You are not to touch him flogged.” He said. “No matter what comes out his mouth. He will answer to me. Go back to your posts.” 

“Yes, Exalted.” 

“If you believe, for one moment, that I lack the means to defend myself, then you underestimate me terribly.” 

Damianos turned towards Laurent. “So I take it you enjoy being passed around from man to man?” 

Laurent’s face was pale and dusted. He did not look scared, or intimidated. He looked calm, collected, a snake in tall grass. “What if I do?” 

Damianos did not know how to answer that. 

“It’s been a couple of weeks now and you still don’t get along with anyone here.” Damianos said. 

“As far as you know.” Laurent lifted his chin up just a bit. Damianos realized he was being tested, but he didn’t know for what. 

“I think you might be interested in knowing something.” Damianos said. Laurent waited. “I received a letter.” 

“Truly fascinating.” 

“From the King of Vere.” Laurent did not budge. “It said that if you are to die, he kindly requests your body to be sent back.” 

Laurent said nothing. 

“Why would he think you are in danger of dying?” Damianos took a step forward and Laurent’s foot moved backwards. “Laurent, I asked you a question.” 

“I don’t know.” Damianos didn’t believe him. There was nothing to suggest a lie, yet he couldn’t bring himself to accept that answer. 

He took another step towards Laurent and Laurent took a step away. “I’m very serious.” Damianos said. 

“I don’t know.”

Damianos grabbed Laurent’s arm before he could move. He dragged him closer. Laurent tensed and grunted. He looked up at Damianos, gritting his teeth. He was closer to him and his pretty face that caused homicidal tendencies in those around him. Laurent’s eyes were dark, he wasn’t breathing. 

“Let me go.” He said with fake calm. “Let. Me. Go.” 

“Not until you tell me what’s that about.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t…don’t touch me.” He took a deep breath in and clenched his teeth hard. Damianos frowned at him. He had a hard time figuring out what was happening. Laurent was anxious, he could feel him under his hand. 

He unwrapped his fingers, leaving behind red marks, and took a step back. Laurent inhaled sharply and walked away. 

He allowed Laurent the night to calm down. The next evening, he sent for him and waited in his room. “Pour some wine.” He said once Laurent walked in. He picked up the pitched and filled the cup. Nothing about him looked unusual. 

“I want to talk to you.” Damianos said. 

“Yes.” 

“You look familiar.” 

Laurent looked at him. His face was still. “Do I?” 

“Yes.” 

“Like who?” His arms flinched like he was about to cross them. He didn’t. 

“Auguste.” The name hung in the air. Laurent held his breath. 

“Don’t say his name.” 

“I am. And you look like him. I thought you looked like someone from the moment I saw you. And now I figured out you look like him.”

“And?” Laurent shrugged. “He was prince. He died in the war. He was blond.” 

Damianos sighed. “Laurent. How much of an idiot do you think I am?” 

Laurent didn’t answer. His body leaned against the wall, casual, relaxed, his eyes unreadable. 

“Laurent, I know who you are.”


	2. King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was turning into a waiting and guessing game between them. Laurent was waiting, Damianos was guessing. He had managed to put the thoughts regarding the so called Prince of Vere in the back of his head. There was a reason Laurent was hiding his identity – Danger? Mistrust? – and Damianos allowed it to happen under his gaze. 
> 
> He was going to watch the secrets unfold themselves.

_I know who you are._ Laurent raised his pale brows and dared him with his “Who?” He asked. 

“You are the Prince of Vere.”

“Yes.” Laurent laughed, long and icy. “And the Prince of Vere wears chains around his hands and legs and this shit collar.” 

“I was expecting you to explain.” Damianos said. 

“There is nothing to explain. You are wrong. I don’t know what kind of ideas are floating through your head, but I can assure you that if I was indeed the Prince of Vere, I would not be standing here, serving you wine.” 

The air in the room was hot and the windows were opened wide. From outside, the sounds of life poured in the room, the voices and laughter of working people and the occasional shouted cuss. Damianos was looking at Laurent; still and relaxed against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest like a flesh and bone barrier. He could feel the answer rolling around him, poking him gently, but he couldn’t catch it. If Laurent was indeed the Prince, why was he sent here? That was the first question he needed to answer. Because the Regent wanted the throne. As much he could figure.

But the question kept buzzing at his ear. Why kill Laurent? Who was going to kill Laurent? When? Was it even a possibility or was he being paranoid? 

“You look interesting when you’re thinking.” Laurent said. 

“Interesting, how?” 

“You look like it’s hurting you. Maybe you should stick to fighting and breaking things.” 

“You may leave now.”

*** 

It’s been two months.

Dinner was sitting heavy in Damianos’ stomach. Laurent was there too, perfectly adequate and cold. He knew when to pour wine and he knew when to hold piece of fruit against his lips. Damianos knew that there must be a reason for this change of heart. 

_He wants to poison you._ Nikandros had offered the explanation in a deadpan voice. Damianos had laughed at that statement. _With what? His charming personality?_ Nobody else knew who Laurent was, and his sudden change of attitude towards the king of Akielos had not remained unnoticed. Those who had decency called it _the charm of the king_ , others – most of his men – called it _the king’s cock._ Nobody dared say it to Damianos’ face, the questions were turning into statements, from _did he bed the Veretian slave?_ to I heard they do it all night long! They never spent a night in the same room. 

It was turning into a waiting and guessing game between them. Laurent was waiting, Damianos was guessing. He had managed to put the thoughts regarding the so called Prince of Vere in the back of his head. There was a reason Laurent was hiding his identity – danger? Mistrust? – and Damianos allowed it to happen under his gaze. He was going to watch the secrets unfold themselves. 

It was a game they played. Laurent was better, but Damianos was catching up.  
War. He had realized. The reason someone would want Laurent dead was because of war. The Regent couldn’t have been that careless and leave Laurent’s murder – accident – death on the hands of fate and he couldn’t have betted on Damianos either. He had no reason to murder the Prince. So it had to be someone else. A spy? A traitor? An assassin? 

Laurent poured him more wine. “You’re making that face again.” Damianos sighed instead of answering. He didn’t want to get into that sort of conversation at the table, not with Nikandros close by, especially since his hatred towards Laurent was badly hidden. 

“We’ll talk later.” 

“As the king commands.” Laurent smiled coldly. 

“Laurent, go prepare my bath.” He said, because he desperately need Laurent to not lean on him anymore. With a small nod and the same and a last cold gaze, Laurent got up and walked away. Damianos waited for everyone to leave before standing. 

His bath was hot; the steam was rising above the water like fog. “You took your time.” Laurent greeted him. His face was flushed from the heat. He looked somehow younger and more vulnerable. That was a lie. 

Damianos took his clothes off and stepped in the hot water, ignoring Laurent’s eyes on him. The man had a real talent at making people uncomfortable just by looking at them. Laurent picked up a soft cloth and ran it gently over Damianos’ arm and shoulder, then down his chest. 

“This scar…” Laurent’s voice was almost a whisper. “Where did you get this scar from?” 

Damianos traced his shoulder with the tips of his fingers, remembering the moment the blade slashed through his flesh and blood gushed out. “Marlas.” He said. Laurent’s squeezed the cloth just a little too tight. 

“How?” His voice remained unaffected. 

Damianos sighed and sunk more in the water. “Auguste.” He said the name. “He was a great swordsman. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Not good enough.” Laurent said. 

“I met him once. I think I was seven.” He started and waited to see the reaction. Laurent was washing his other arm, his expression still. He wondered where all that dedication and willpower came from. “Before war was even a future prospect. It was some sort of political meeting, my father was there to discuss taxes or trade or something and I was there to observe. We snuck out halfway through the meeting and fought with sticks outside. I remember the day; it was the middle of autumn. He poked the stick right into my stomach and I fell in a pile of leaves. Then he laughed so hard he had to crunch over and hold his stomach. It seems I look _undeniably ridiculous_ with leaves stuck in my hair. Anyone could see it, even then, that he was fit to rule and fight.”

He waited. The cloth remained unmoved on the crook of his neck and he could feel his own in the tips of his fingers. It was a heavy wait. 

“He talked a lot about his younger brother - _about you_ \- and he couldn’t have been more proud. _He’s just two years but he’s so smart!_ ” He waited again. “Laurent. I’m sorry he died.” 

Laurent left.

*** 

The letter arrived two days later. Damianos was sitting in his study when he read it. Then he read it again and his gut feeling told him this had to mean something. The King of Vere was going to visit Akielos. He was debating whether or not to tell Laurent. He either told him or he was going to find out on his own, trying to accommodate a King was not a subtle act.

The question started twirling in his mind again. Why kill Laurent? Who was going to kill Laurent? When?

Laurent’s dead body could start a war. It was suddenly more clear now. But there were pieces he still couldn’t fit together. He grunted and threw the letter across the room. He was tired of the games, he was tired of all the tricks and lies. He asked for Laurent to be bought to him. 

“Is there something you need? Are you having difficulties taking out the pin from your dress?” 

“As much as I would like having you undress me, no.” Damianos said. “The King – your uncle, he wanted to say – is coming here.” He watched Laurent tense, his eyes widening. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. The reaction said it all. _Shit._

“Why?” He stopped himself, his face falling back into the impassible mask. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“I thought you’d want to know.” Damian sighed. “I don’t know what game you’re playing. I don’t know what angles you’re using or why you’re all of a sudden so…much more… approachable.” He was not, under any circumstances, approachable, he was a blade wrapped in pretty silk, but still a blade. Damianos knew that. “But I’m sure you have a plan.” 

“You give me so much credit.” Laurent said. 

“You seem to think lowly of me. I may not be an expert at your games, but I’m not stupid. This visit can start a war.” 

“Oh?” Laurent seemed amused. Damien thought he looked pleased for a brief moment.  
“Not so dense, I see.” 

Damian laughed. “Laurent?” He asked after a moment “Why don’t you trust me? I know you’re not a salve. And I am not treating you as one. You’re the only one in this court who doesn’t bow or kneel. I never forced you to.” 

Laurent studied him, trying to figure out if he should talk or just keep burying everything in the pits of his mind. 

“If you were my slave.” Laurent started, speaking carefully. “I would’ve treated you badly. I would’ve done everything to make you suffer. I…” He frowned. “You were not what I expected.” 

“I take that as a good thing.” Damianos said.

“You’re a lot like him.” Laurent said. “Don’t worry about the so called king. He said he’ll be here tomorrow, right?” Damianos frowned, Laurent was right. “Good. You just do your preparation. Don’t tell anyone, as far as you and everyone here is concerned, I am your slave.” And then he turned around and left. Damianos was getting bored of watching him leave.

*** 

That evening Damianos was having a private dinner. Nikandros was sitting on the other side of the table and they were talking. Laurent was there, half because Damianos called him, the other half because Laurent wanted to.

“I don’t want more Veretians running around here.” Nikandros said. 

“They won’t run.” Damianos answered, half absent and shoved a piece of bread in his mouth. 

“It bothers you. It bothers me too… You can never know for sure what those people want.” 

He just nodded and lifted his cup of wine. It was still half full, but he felt the need to do something. Laurent poured. Nikandros’ hand flashed and grabbed Laurent’s writs. Laurent tensed, but that was all. “Why did you do that?” Nikandros asked. 

“What?” Damianos placed the cup on the table and got up. “Nikandros, let him go.” 

Laurent looked like a snake ready to bite. The image was thrilling. 

“Why did you do that with your hand?” Nikandros asked again and gave him a tug by the wrists, his whole body lunging forward. He was taller and stronger than Laurent. “Are you trying to poison him, you snake?!” 

_Poison?!_

“You are delusional.” Laurent said with the same, characteristic nonchalance. “Let go of me.” 

Damianos frowned and looked at the wine from his cup. It looked normal, it smelled normal. _Poison?!_ In what seemed like a fit of rage, Nikandros grabbed the pitcher from Laurent’s hands and poured it over his head. He took the cup from Damianos and held it up to him. “Then drink!” He was now holding Laurent’s shoulder, fingers digging into his pale shin. “I said. Drink!”  
Laurent pressed his lips together in a straight line. Wine was dripping from his hair, onto his face and neck. His white chiton was stained. 

“If you don’t drink this, I’m cutting off your head myself.” Nikandros said. Damianos had to snap himself out of it. Laurent looked at him. Nothing made sense. 

“Do it.” Damianos said. “It’s just wine.” Laurent took the cup and held it against his lips. He tilted it and drank a mouthful. Damianos realized this was the first time Laurent had touched alcohol. 

“See?” Laurent said, letting every slide of his insult pour out. “I didn’t poison it. Now take your hand off of me.” 

“Drink more.” Laurent drank another mouthful and dropped the cup on the floor. 

“Let him go.” Damianos said. “I said let him go now.” 

Nikandros shoved Laurent away. He needed a moment to remember his manners. He turned towards Damianos and bowed his head. “Excuse me, Exalted.” He said before turning around and opening the door. He slammed it behind him. 

Laurent wiped his face with a cloth. He looked oddly calm even though his hair was wet and sticking to his face. 

“Did you put something in my drink?” Damianos asked. 

“No.” 

“Give me the cloth.” He said. Laurent passed it to him and watched him dunk it in the water pitcher. He squeezed it and used it to clean Laurent’s face. He pushed the blond hair back before pressing the cloth gentle on his cheek. Laurent was allowing this now and he realized that even thought they were pretending to be slave and king, there had never been a moment of noticeable inequality between them. He moved the cloth over his neck and shoulder. He could see the blue-purple veins under his skin. His shoulder was going to bruise. 

“He’s my friend.” Damianos said. 

“I know. He’s a loyal friend.”  
Laurent excused himself a minute later. Which was odd, because Laurent never excused himself for anything. But it was late and his head was hurting slightly, so Damianos decided to stop thinking about Laurent’s puzzle-like mind and go to sleep.

*** 

It was just hours before dawn when someone knocked at his door. Damianos woke. He thought that the sound was nothing more but a dream. Then he heard it again. Desperate knocks and shouting. “Exalted! Exalted, please! It’s an emergency!” Damianos got out of bed and opened the door. Soldier.

“What?” Was he a new soldier? He didn’t recognize his face. 

“Exalted! I’m so terribly sorry to disturb you, but you must come! I don’t know how it happened. People are shouting in the barns. The men are drunk. I think Laurent is there.”

Damianos grunted loudly and walked out barefoot, wearing his sleeping clothes. He didn’t care about that, his men had seen him naked and covered in oil. Something did not seem right. He followed the soldier.

Laurent was there, looking completely at ease. If anything, he was half asleep. “The king is here!” He said, and his accent was more pronounced than ever. Was he drunk? 

The doors closed behind him. Two men were guarding it. Then it clicked. Everything was clear to him now. He was going to be framed. The Regent was going to arrive in a couple of hours and find him covered in Laurent’s blood. Shit. 

“Oh, one, two, three… five men?” Laurent asked. “Five men to kill one who is unarmed? How much were you paid for this?” Laurent sounded confident, but Damianos had a couple of months to learn his mannerisms and he was not at his best. 

“Shut up.” A soldier said.

“Shut up.” He laughed coldly. “That’s the wittiest thing you thought of? Shut. Up. No wonder you go tricked into this so quickly. You think you’re going to walk away from here with a fortune?” He laughed again. “You’re going to die.” 

“Just gag him.” Another one. 

“You’re afraid I’m right? 

Damianos realized that Laurent was stalling for more time. More time to what?! He was pushed forward by one of the men. 

“You’re afraid that I’m right and that the moment my uncle gets here is going to order you all arrested for standing idly while his nephew got murdered.” He sighed. “I’ve seen rocks with more sense than you.” 

“Tie the giant one.” 

The giant one?! 

Damianos started struggling when he felt someone grabbing him. He punched the culprit in the face hard enough to send him a couple of feet back. A fight broke, there were hands and knees and fists, then a blade at his throat. He was unarmed. He was taken by surprise by it all and he felt ashamed that he was tricked so easily. Laurent was looking at him like he was a math question. 

“Tie him up already! We don’t have time!” 

Damianos was pushed next to Laurent and tied up. Now that he was closer, he could see that Laurent was pale. He was biting the inside of his cheek and his lip hard and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

The man who held the sword at his throat shoved his fingers into Laurent’s hair and pulled him up om his feet. He looked like a cloth puppet. Damianos struggled and kicked the man in his sheen hard enough to make him stumble away. He dragged Laurent with him, refusing to let go. 

He got on his feet. 

“Stop!” Laurent shouted to cover the commotion. “Listen to me. He is not going to pay you.” The man hit Laurent’s head against the wall. He saw the blood forming through the blond hair. Damianos tried to force the rope, to break it, but it was thick and it only made his hands numb. 

It was five of them, Laurent was drunk or drugged or both and his hands were tied behind his back. How was he so stupid!? 

“Just finish the fucking job already, I’m getting tired just watching you!” The man with the sword grunted at the command, but he seemed ready to oblige. He lifted it. 

“Wait.” Damianos found himself speaking, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Think. He had to think. If Laurent was stalling for time, he had a reason to do it. He had to trust him. “You’re just going to kill him?” He got kicked in the stomach. Fuck! The sword was at Laurent’s neck again and saw the blade drawing blood. 

“Ransom.” Laurent said. “You’ll get more for this than if you kill me.” 

There were flaws in that logic, Damianos knew. There was the problem of identity. How would people be sure that Laurent is Laurent and not some blond man? Everyone thought that the Prince was dead. And they couldn’t be sure that his uncle was going to pay. His intention was to kill Laurent. All he could do was hope the men were too caught up in their greed to realize this. 

“He’s got a point.” This time, one of the men who was guarding the doors spoke. “We could get more.” 

“That was not the plan!” The other guard said. “We’re sticking to the plan.” 

“Both of you, shut up!” The man holding the sword darted his eyes at all of them. He was growing impatient, there was sweat covering his face. 

“We are killing him and that’s that.” 

_A sword. A sword to cut down through this bunch of idiots! Even a knife!_

Something hard hit the doors and the wood cracked. Shouting came from behind them. Veretian. Damianos frowned. Another hit. The doors were not meant to take that kind of violence end they broke down.

“Drop your weapons!” 

Damian watched them. They were outnumbered, the Veretian soldiers were armored, they were stronger in number. The assassins surrendered. 

“Your majesty! You’re hurt.” 

“I’m alright, Jord.” Laurent said, touching the bleeding spot on his forehead. “It’s a scratch. My uncle will be here soon. Take these men away. Then go outside. Tell anyone who asks that you are here under the protection of King Damianos.” Laurent closed his eyes for a long moment. “My uncle will arrive, he will not have many men with him. After he’s here, I don’t want him to leave.” He turned towards Damianos and untied his hands and legs. “Can I count on you and your men for this?” 

“Yes.” He said. “I’ll order it myself.” He got up and Laurent grabbed his arm. 

“I need to tell you something.” So he waited. Laurent’s men left the stables to follow their orders. Damian was feeling lightheaded. 

“What do you want to tell me?” Laurent was leaning on him, his knees were giving in. He held him by the arms. 

“I drugged your drink.” He said. “I wanted you to be asleep.” He continued. “I didn’t want to pull you into this. I didn’t trust you enough… you still could’ve made a deal with them. I… I’m sorry for this.” 

“You drugged me because you thought I might sell you out!?” 

“That was one of the reasons…. Yes.” He closed his eyes again. “I threw up most of it, but it seems… well….” He was dozing off now that he had no adrenaline keeping him up. 

“What was the other reason?”  
“You could’ve decided you don’t want a deal.” Laurent muttered. “And play hero.” 

“You drugged me so I wouldn’t be able to help you?” 

“So you wouldn’t get hurt.” He said and passed out. 

 

*** 

Laurent was in his room. Guards were posted in front of the door and outside, under the windows. Damianos got dressed and brushed his hair. The _King of Vere_ was there. He did everything in his power to play his role. Laurent did his part brilliantly and alone in a foreign country. 

The Regent, now King, future former King of Vere, was a bearded man whose only common features with Laurent were his blue eyes and twisted mind. Next to him was a child that kept looking around agitated. A sapphire earring dangled above his shoulder. He was looking around for something or someone. He didn’t understand why someone would bring a child to this sort of twisted game. 

Damianos insisted on escorting the King to his room. His stomach twisted when he realized that the kid was going to share a room with him. 

 

There was a feast. The tables were full and the men were eating and drinking. The Regent was trying to subtly ask about Laurent. _He’s tired so I allowed him to rest._ Damianos answered with a polite smile. _I’m sure he’s going to want to see his King once he feels better._ He could see the impatience growing on the man’s face. 

In the middle of the feast the doors opened and Laurent walked in. He was dressed in Veretian clothing, dark blue fabric covered his thighs and arms. He walked in, his steps elegant and unrushed, every movement saying that it was his birth right to do stroll in the dining hall like that. Eyes turned. People were whispering. People recognized him; his hair, his face, the Prince. 

He stopped. “Hello uncle.” Laurent smiled and Damian has never seen a man going so pale so quickly. “Did you miss me, dear uncle?” 

The child that accompanied the Regent gasped and covered his mouth. 

“How are you...?” The Regent started. 

“Alive and well? It seems your assassins did a pretty shitty job.” He shrugged. “You made a big mistake when you sent me here as a slave.” The light was shining on his face. There he stood, the Golden Prince. The Prince that came back from the death. The true King. “Are you going to deny it?” Laurent’s voice was a sweet venom. “Are you going to deny that you sent me here and hired men to kill me? That you attempted to use my dead body as a reason to start a war with Akielos? That you wanted to frame King Damianos so you could have a reason to invade?” 

“Lies!” The Regent slapped his hands on the table and stood. “Lies!” 

“He is not lying.” Damianos’ voice was sharp. He stood, he was not going to let that man tower over him. “The assassin’s you sent confessed. They are willing to testify against you in a trial in exchange for their lives. I was there when one of them pressed their blade at Laurent’s neck. Guards. Arrest him.” 

Laurent smiled and watched his uncle being dragged away. Nobody tried to stop it. Nobody dared. Their Prince was alive. The King was alive. The child ran to him and hugged him tightly.  
_Long live the King!_

***

“Thank you.” Laurent said, looking up from his cup to Damianos. He was drinking water. It was only them, alone on the balcony. Lauren was beautiful under the moonlight. “For helping me get my throne back.”

“It would’ve been far easier if I knew what was going on.” Damianos bit into an apple. 

“You have to understand my position. I was alone, in a country that hated Veretians. I didn’t know you. I didn’t trust you. And I hated you. I hated you so bad, every time I looked at you I tasted ashes in my mouth. And you made it hard.” 

“What?” 

“Hating you.” Laurent said. “You remind me of Auguste. You could have been good friends. I can picture it, you going together hunting, slapping each other on the back while talking about your romantic conquests.” 

“I wish we could’ve met under different circumstances.” Damianos confessed. “I would’ve courted you.” 

Laurent took a grape between his long fingers and ate it slowly.“I’m still young.” He smiled and Damianos knew that was a genuine smile, a rarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you fond the fic somehow entertaining! Please let me know your thoughts ~ <3


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